Story of No Name
by Wind
Summary: Quatre asks Trowa to tell him a story. WAFF. Sweet, cute and cuddly. R&R.


Author: Wind  
Rating: G (I can't believe I wrote a G fic! Argh...)  
Category: Romance/WAFF  
Feedback: Yes, please.  
Pairing: 3+4/4+3  
Author's notes: Well, this is really sweet and mushy and all. Simply WAFF. But I don't think it is quite as sickeningly syrap as some my stories... Hopefully it is not. Also, I know this prolly has too many cliches that are beat to hell and back already...  
  
Dedication: For Mezra. @----- Love you, koi. You're my light, my joy, my pain and everything in the between. This fic was written solely for her, 'cause she loves 3x4 so much. Dear, we have our ups and downs, I want to believe we can last through 'em all. I hope you want to believe that too.  
  
Story of No Name  
  
Just because you are highly trained...   
just because you are physically strong...  
just because you have a seriously kick ass Gundam...  
just because the fate of the world is in your hands...  
Does not mean you cannot catch cold. This had Quatre Raberba Winner discovered. Maybe it had been surprisingly bad heating system in the cockpit of Sandrock or maybe he simply forgot to wear his warm fluffy bathrobe after a bathing session one of the nights. But it wasn't really important what the reason was, important was the fact that ever since Wednesday breakfast, the blond arab had been constantly sneezing and it was getting worse. By the afternoon, the rest of the pilots had ordered him to go to bed and despite the loud protests from pilot 04, rest he got.  
  
The dinner time arrived and the pilots agreed that it would be wisest to threat the food to bed for Quatre. There could come a mission that required all of them any minute, so it was the only reasonable to thing to try to get the arab well again as soon as possible. That was their official reason stated out loud. The real reason, one that they wouldn't have admitted to anyone, was that deep down inside, they cared and wanted Quatre to feel good soon.  
Heero Yuy, the perfect soldier was capable, among other things, making decent food. He simply normally didn't consider it worth while activity, so preparing their meals usually was Quatre's job.  
Loading various plates, glasses and two huge pieces of bread on a tray, Trowa was send upstairs to deliver the meal. There hadn't been arguments about that, the job had naturally fallen for Trowa. While anyone of them would have done it, Trowa probably was the best person to do it with his calm and cool personality.  
  
Pushing the door open the European pilot of Heavyarms stepped into the small bedroom. He nodded as a greeting to the smiling blond in bed, before walking to him and setting the tray carefully on his laps. Then he pulled a chair for himself and sat down, his eyes never leaving the smaller boy.  
Quatre looked at the tray and then at Trowa, saying:  
"You really didn't need to. I could have came down to eat! I'm not that sick, I just..."  
His protest was cut off by a fit of furious sneezes. Pilot 03 let a ghost of smile cover his lips, before picking up a piece of paper from the tray and handing it to Quatre.  
"Thanks..." the petite boy muttered, before blowing his nose. "Ok, maybe I have caught the slightest cold, but it's nothing serious..."  
This time, his babbling was cut by a spoon full of soup, that was showed to his mouth. With a muffled grunt he swallowed the soap and the spoon traveled out, towards the plate to get more soup. Before that mission was completed however, Quatre took firmly hold of the hand holding the spoon and looked at Trowa.  
"It's just a cold! I can eat myself..."  
The unibanged pilot looked back at him for a moment, then sat the spoon down and shrugged almost unnoticeably. Quatre felt his cheeks tint towards pink and was grateful for the first time that he could blame the cold for it. Picking up the spoon and starting eating, he mentally kicked himself for saying something like that. If Trowa had wanted to help him, what harm would it have been to go along with it? It wasn't like he minded... But the tall boy was simply being there and helping him because he felt it was his responsibility, so it was only fair not to force him to bother more than absolutely necessary...  
The dinner was finished in silence. It wasn't ackward type of silence, just that neither of them felt the need to fill the air with meaningless words simply for keeping the silence away.   
Once Quatre had ate the soup, salad and piece of bread, he was very full and feeling quite happy. He thanked Trowa, smiling brightly and watched as the brown haired boy picked up the tray and turned to leave the room, saying:  
"Now, you should get some sleep, little one."  
Quatre yawned and cuddled deeper under the various blankets he had been given, before almost shyly asking:  
"Trowa... could you stay and tell me a story? Please?"  
The taller boy stopped turning his face to the blond. "A story?" he repeated, checking if he maybe, possibly, more likely, had heard wrong. But Quatre nodded, looking slightly nervously at his hands, explaining:  
"Back at home, when I was sick, my older sisters used to tell me a story and it always made me feel better..."  
He lifted his sea green eyes to meet Trowa's. After a moment, pilot 03 nodded:  
"I'll go get Duo."  
Quatre's eyes widened a little and slightly too hurriedly he bursted out: "No!". Seeing Trowa's confused look, he continued, more calmly:  
"I'm pretty sure Duo is busy... it's getting late and Heero is not on a mission, so..." He left the rest of the sentence hang in the air. Trowa did catch the meaning of it.  
"You're right. Wufei, then."  
"Trowa, do you really think I'm in condition to listen to a rant of injustice in this world..?" Quatre gave the European rather pathetic look.  
Letting out a small sigh, Trowa turned back, placed the tray on a near by night table and sat down. Looking at Quatre, he gave one last excuse:  
"I don't know any good stories."  
The blond smiled his award winning friendly smile, replying:  
"Oh, it doesn't matter... I'm happy with any story you know."  
Trowa fixed his eyes on a small crack on the wall, near the ceiling. Without a hurry, he slowly began, his voice smooth, calming and relaxing.  
"Once upon a time there was a world much like this one... It was thorn apart by conflicts and wars, senseless battles robbing people the only life they would ever be given. Robbing some people more than the only life they were given, for it is much worse to loose everything and keep on living, then being the one who is taken. In one of the towns that had been demolished by armies and greedy people, lived a boy who had nothing. He had no family, he had no home, he had no friends... he didn't even have a name. All his life people treated him like an object, moved him from house to house, from place to place... Some of the people on the way called him with various names, but more often than not, if needed to mention, they called him No Name... Life hadn't treated him well and seeing all the pain and desperation around him, did not make him believe life ever would threat him good..."  
"But Allah will help him, right?"  
The sudden interruptions made Trowa to look at the boy resting in bed. Quatre blushed prettily and lowered his eyes to his hands.  
"Sorry I interrupted... But my sisters always told me stories about Allah..."  
"Well, I don't know any stories about him. Maybe Wufei..." Trowa was about to get up, when Quatre quickly grabbed his arm:  
"No, no! This is a good story. I'd like to hear more of it. Please?"  
The petit blond arab was one of the people whom to you can't say no if he asks "please". So Trowa sat down again and after collecting his thoughts again, he continued:  
"One day that was going like every other day, No Name met someone. A boy, who looked his age, who was clean, dressed in light colors and in whose hair the sun seemed to dance, even though the sky was covered with clouds. The little boy seemed to just glow light and warmth and friendliness. No Name had learned by now that people only meant harm and that it was better to be by yourself. Seeing the smaller boy, he quickly turned around and run to disappear to somewhere. Maybe a basement of abandoned house. To his surprise, he could hear steps behind him and someone calling him to wait up. Ignoring this, No Name kept running and in mid speed dodged behind a fence. The steps went past him and he was just about to forget the whole thing, when he heard a nose. Something like a muffled sniffle. Peaking his head out from behind the fence, he looked at the street. The only one there was the smaller blond boy, whose lower lip was trembling lightly and whose eyes were watery. For some strange reason, No Name stepped out from behind the fence and walked to the boy. He seemed to instantly brighten up and give No Name a smile that could have competed with the sun in brightness. After a short silence, the boy asked:  
"Who are you?"  
No Name felt surprised, but replied like always:  
"I have no name."  
The other boy nodded, saying:  
"Yes. But who are you?"  
To this question No Name didn't know the answer. He shot back:  
"Who are you?"  
The other boy reached to take hold of No Name's hand and said:  
"I'm your friend."  
And it was true. From that moment, they were friends and life didn't feel so dark and gloom for No Name anymore. They were always together and in only few days, they were taken in by a nice old couple, who had lost their own child in the war. They got a home, and enough food everyday and they even got to see a teacher every now and then. But most important, they got each other.  
Then, one night, long after their bed time, No Name woke up. Looking around he couldn't see his friend anywhere. Worrying, he got out of the bed and with soft and quiet steps he had learned during his life, he sneaked out of the room and out of the house. In the small garden he saw the blond boy, dressed in his white nightgown, almost glowing in the moonlight. But he also saw something else that made him gasp. White, feathery wings were in the back of his friend. The gasp did not go unheard and the blond boy turned towards No Name, smiling gently.  
"I have to go back now." the small boy said.  
"I want you to stay." No Name stated.  
The angel shook his head:  
"I do not belong here. You have a home and family now."  
"But..."  
The angel squeezed No Name's hand lightly, before rising higher and higher into the air and finally disappearing.  
"... I don't want any of that if it's not with you." No Name finished his sentence.  
Days pasted. Weeks pasted. Months pasted. Finally the boy had to admit to himself, that the angel wasn't coming to him."  
"It doesn't end there, right?"  
"Huh?" Trowa snapped his head towards Quatre again.  
"The story... it can't end there..." the arab stated firmly. Trowa crooked his head to one side:  
"How?"  
"The angel, he would come back. He wouldn't leave his friend like that!" Quatre said his face very serious, "He's just visiting the heavens to ask for permission to stay, or to run some errands or..."  
"But angels can't stay on Earth, little one."  
"Then he would give up being an angel! I know he'd want to stay with his friend!" the blond argued, his eyes shimmering. Trowa stared into his eyes for a brief moment, before looking at the crack on the wall again and continuing:  
"No Name had given up on hoping the angel would ever return to him. His life was almost nice now, the angel had helped him to fix it so. Compared to what he had used to call life, this was paradise. But, deep down inside, No Name couldn't feel happy or satisfied, for he had lost the only person whom he had cared for. One year had passed since the angels departure when No Name was returning home from school. He opened the gate to the garden and stepped in, freezing to his place. There, in the garden, was a small boy with hair that shone in the sunlight. The boy run to him and gave him a big hug.  
"I'm back." he said, beaming. No Name could hardly believe, if he hadn't had his arm around the boy, he probably wouldn't had believed it.  
"Up in the heaven, I could see how that you missed me. I talked with God and finally he agreed that I could return to you..." the angel explained, sensing the disbelief in his friend.  
"Are you gonna leave again?" No Name asked, holding the angel's hand tight.  
"No. I'll stay with you, forever."  
And the angel did as he promised and No Name was happy..."  
Pilot 03 turned towards his partner for approval to this ending. Only answer he got was a soft snore. Trowa blinked couple of times, pondering if he should feel insulted that the boy had fallen asleep during his story and if his story really had been that boring. After a while, he decided not to take it to himself, but to be happy that Quatre was getting some rest. Getting up, picking the tray with him on the way, Trowa walked towards the door. Just before opening it, he turned to look at the sleeping boy and after a moment of hesitation, walked back to the bed. Bending over carefully, he brushed his lips against Quatre's forehead.  
"Sweet dreams, little one."  
Then he exited from the room, taking the tray with him. After the light squeak noise of the door closing had carried through the air, Quatre half opened one of his eyes and smiling softly looked at the door.  
"I'll stay with you forever, Trowa..."  
  
End  
  
*sighs* Since my last GW fic showed that GW readers are lazy and don't review, I won't wait much for this... o' course it would be nice if you'd surprise me. *coughhintcough*. That means, people, if you read it, leave a review. 


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